A mixed bag of babies and a blog

06/19/2010

Il bel far niente

The beauty of doing nothing.

Beauty? I know about the guilt in doing nothing. Nothing equals dirty dishes, oatmeal on the walls, dirt behind four ears, and hair left frizzy and wild. But I don’t think that is the kind of nothing that would be referred to as beautiful. I don’t know how to do the beautiful kind. That kind would require me to clear my mind of the days full of tantrums and wet behinds, snotty sleeves and Play-Doh mashed expertly into the carpet. But those days are also full of sweet baby kisses, first giggles, and sing-a-longs. I suppose it’s about stopping to smell the roses. But in my house, the roses have wilted and smell like a mixture of Desitin and sour lentil soup.

I’m not good with peace and serenity. That would require patience, a quality that I don’t possess. Years ago I went to get acupuncture for a nagging back ache. I was a bit skeptical when he told me that my problem was actually with my spleen and I should only eat hot foods. Then he inserted the needles across my back, on my forehead, around my ankles and wrists, and I was told to relax. He left the room and I remember thinking, can I get some music? How long has it been? Are we done yet? How about now? I suppose I was meant to mediate, but are we done yet? Doctor? Quack?

Il bel far niente. I took a semester of Italian in college. For some, that might be enough time to learn and retain such a sentence. But I took the course my first year and I went to Chico State. I remember how to say hello and not much more. If you grew up in California, you probably understand the reference to Chico. If not, just think Animal House in flannel shirts (grunge was trendy at the time). When we dressed up we tucked in the flannel and put on a belt. And then slung a backpack over our shoulder to hide the 12-pack of beer.

I read about this beautiful thing called nothing in Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Eat, Pray, Love. I have not actually read the whole book. I am only on page 65. With two babies I don’t have much time to read, much less pee in private. So the book stays in the bathroom, where some days I can get through a page, and others, just a paragraph. That line struck me though She goes on to explain about the difference between how Americans view work and relaxation versus the Italians. That’s nice and all, but I’ve been to Italy, to Rome even (in my opinion nothing beats Cinque Terra where we met Italian sailors that wanted to marry us). Yes, it was beautiful and the food was amazing, but I could only afford to visit. Even in a country where the food and lodging are inexpensive, I could not afford to just live. So to think that I could do that now, here and now, well that would just be selfish.

The nothing I like is to do is to flop down on the couch and lose my thoughts in a good (or bad) television show while sipping on a glass of wine. I’d trade that couch and television for a bed on a beach but we are not prepared to bring the girls on that sort of vacation. That would require the kind of effort that two people in our condition don’t have. What condition, you might ask? Tired.

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Don't forget you curled your hair after the belt went on Shel! I look back at how many hours (hundreds? thousands?) we did absolutely NOTHING (Facts of Life marathons aside) and think my current obsession with time is my payback.

I steal a line from the latest Karate Kid movie "Being still Is not the same as doing nothing." apparently being still is focus. Who knew? So maybe doing nothing is really doing something purposefully. I don't know.